“No, that must not be,” said Mrs. Cressey. “Jane must learn that certain things belong to Donald and others to her. She will grow up to be a selfish little girl if I let her have her way too much. Jane, Jane, come back with Donald’s Dog, please!”
But Jane did not come back. She ran into one room, out through a side door, and down another hall, all the while clutching the Woolly Dog close in her arms. After her ran her mother, Donald, and even Uncle Teddy, who was laughing and chuckling in glee.
“Even if Jane is a little bad, I haven’t had so much fun in a long while,” thought Mr. Blakeley to himself. “She’s a regular tyke, that’s what she is. Ha! Ha! She certainly can run! The little tyke!”
And run with the Woolly Dog, Jane surely did. As for that toy, he did not know what to think, and of course he could say or do nothing while Jane had him.
“Dear me!” thought the Woolly Dog, “I’m afraid I’m not going to have as much fun here as I had hoped. I might better have been left in Mrs. Clark’s little store, poor as it was. At least it was peaceable and quiet there.”
But other and more dreadful things were to happen to the Woolly Dog. His adventures were just beginning. Jane squeezed him so tightly that, had he been a real dog, he would have howled with pain. But, being only a Woolly Dog, stuffed with cotton, he dared not cry out. Perhaps if there had been a squeaker in him, or a tin whistle, such as was in the Rubber Clown, he might have made a noise.
But, as it was, the Woolly Dog kept silent, and at last Jane ran with him into another room, slammed the door and looked around. What was she going to do next, the Woolly Dog wanted to know.
“I hide, ’at’s what I do; I hide!” said little Jane to herself. “I hide, an’ Woolly Dog hide. Den dey tan’t find us!” She was so excited that she talked “baby talk,” of which her mother had almost cured her.
In another moment the little girl had seen a good place to hide—under the couch in the room where she had run to get away from Donald, her mother and Uncle Teddy. Under the couch, still closely hugging the Woolly Dog, rolled little Jane. She laughed and chuckled to herself to think how she would fool those looking for her.
And fool them she did, for, a moment later, into the room hurried the three—Donald in the lead, then his mother, and lastly Uncle Teddy, who was puffing and blowing, for he was rather fat and rather old and not used to running.